


Sweet Sleep

by Aegialia



Series: Improbable Ancient Femslash [3]
Category: Greek and Roman Mythology, Hellenistic Religion & Lore, The Odyssey - Homer
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-24
Updated: 2016-01-24
Packaged: 2018-05-15 21:37:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5801164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aegialia/pseuds/Aegialia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Penelope went upstairs<br/>To her softly lit rooms and wept for Odysseus,<br/>Her beloved husband, until grey-eyed Athena<br/>Cast sweet sleep upon the woman's eyelids."<br/>-The Odyssey, book 16 (483-6), trans. by Lombardo</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sweet Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Context for those who haven't read the Odyssey/haven't read it in a while: Telemachus, Penelope's son, is motivated by Athena to leave Ithaca, and find his father, without telling his mom, who is understandably upset about it. This takes place at the end of book 4.

The moon was a high silver sliver in the sky when Athena came in the form of Iphthime to Penelope. At last, the mortal woman had gone to sleep, exhausted from yet another worry placed on her shoulders. She had been watching her from above the evening long, heard her prayers and tears. Now, she walked to her side, brushing back her soft dark hair. Her cheeks were still flushed and her brow worried. Penelope woke, blinking in confusion.   
“Penelope, do not worry for your son. The gods love him and will grant him safe return,” she said, kneeling and resting her hand on her arm. The other woman sat up slightly.  
“You can’t be Iphthime,” she said, head tilted.   
“Have I not her face and voice?”  
“But not her way of speaking. Besides, she couldn’t be here, she lives far from me and rarely comes calling. Who are you then? I feel I know you, like a dream.”   
Athena smiled. “Clever as always, Penelope. I am your friend, and your husband’s, and your son’s.”  
“Athena?”  
“Indeed.”  
Penelope let out a sigh and bowed her head.  
“Why are you at my side and not with Telemachus? Surely he needs your aid more than I,” she said, settling back on her side.   
“Your son lives and thrives with the living Atrides. He has no need of comfort in this hour. But you? I pity you in your grief,” Athena replied.  
“My grief? Which grief? For my husband, twenty years gone from my bed and home, or for my son, that foolish child. I know they will both never return, lost forever at sea, and I will remain here alone forever, waiting and waiting and waiting,” she said, a hitch in her voice.  
“I would make you forget your fear and grief, if I could. You are not alone, Penelope. I am by your side and by your son’s,” Athena whispered, brushing her thumb over her cheek as she held the back of her head.  
“Will you?” Penelope asked.  
“What?”  
“Will you help me to forget?” she said like a breath, her forehead meeting the goddess’.   
“Whatever will bring you peace,” Athena replied and kissed her gently. 

___

After, as Athena traced the birthmarks on the other woman’s back, Penelope asked, “Does Odysseus still live?”  
Athena’s hand still. Penelope turned to face her, tilting her chin so her storm grey eyes were forced to meet hers.   
“I will not speak of him with you, living or dead. Any words would be ill spoken,” she said, kissing sweet sleep onto her eyelids. She stood, looking down onto the sleeping queen. She looked down on her, a lonely ache behind her sternum. She hesitantly bent down and kissed Penelope’s forehead as she pulled the blankets over her and drifted from the room as a sigh in the air.

**Author's Note:**

> What do you mean "cast sweet sleep upon the woman's eyelids" isn't Ancient Greek for having angsty lesbian cut to black sex???  
> Heavily inspired by Lombardo's translation, contains some direct quotes  
> Talk to me about improbable greek femslash @aegialia


End file.
